Frozen Flame
by Grand Phoenix
Summary: It's what Konoha will look like in the near future. Flames and death and empty husks of tarnished glory. They will burn, burn, burn. Chapter 414. Sasuke-centric.


**Disclaimer :** All characters and places belong to Masashi Kishimoto, ©1999-2008.

_A/N: I think this story goes to show how much I like the Uchiha, especially Sasuke. While he may be a dickless, clueless bastard he is, in his own way, a badass with a tragic past. _

_This idea came up a little after I finished reading Chapter 414, so spoilers are abound. The title was drawn from the Chrono Cross track of the same name._

_And while this does not follow the "Sparda" canon (waits for __**Evil Riggs**__ to reiterate), I DO have some ideas to incorporate into it, such as short story spin-offs. What I plan to do with Killerbee the Hachibi, Senjutsu, the truth behind the Uchiha Massacre and Itachi's double life is under wraps. Who knows? This may point toward a sequel . . . ._

_So please enjoy this little piece of mine. Constructive criticism is welcomed and reviews are appreciated._

* * *

**Frozen Flame**

* * *

Of all the thoughts I had running through my mind, why did it have to be _this one_?

My life's flashing before my eyes but all I see are Karin's tense face, Suigetsu laying in a puddle of his own watery body, Juugo's arm in my bloodied chest and a giant eight-tailed ox snorting and squealing to the empty world around us. Mountainous debris and clouds of dust strolling along the ground make up what's left of our arid battlefield.

I never expected the Jinchuuriki to be this strong, nor did I see coming the revelation of his complete control over the Hachibi no Oushi. It's the first time I heard of such a machination because common knowledge shows it is impossible to overthrow a Bijuu, much less tame it. I must admit it is amazing the man can retain his sentience while in that form. It goes to show how much farther advances can be made in the study of the Tailed Beasts, how much it can revolutionize Fuuinjutsu by mere sight alone.

But it's all I can think of before pain drags its notched sword down my sternum and the agonizing scream pulsing in my throat comes out as a labored grunt. I barely hear what Karin's saying to Juugo, and it wasn't just from the rampaging Jinchuuriki above us but the numerous falls I took beforehand that robbed me partly of my listening. The musk of blood and sweat and upturned soil burns my lungs and forces tears through my stinging eyes.

I can't see. The colors are starting to blur and the movements of my accomplices are are doubling . . . .

Damn it! This isn't what I need. This isn't what I want to happen. I should be dragging that rat's ass to Madara and seal that cursed beast into the statue where it belongs! I should be destroying Konohagakure as they and their _beloved_ Hokage destroyed my clan! My family! My brother! My people! My future!

A pox be on their house and name, every last one of those traitorous bastards!

I can't lose to him. Not this vessel. Not when I have the chance to restore my last kin's full power towering before me. One Mangekyou Sharingan may not be enough to topple Konoha, but imagine . . . just _imagine_ what two Mangekyou Sharingan would be like! No one would stop us! No one would escape our grasp! They Will Fall!

Even _him_.

What startles me the most is the connection I see between Team Hawk and Team Seven. The past and the present. Then and Now. I mean it when I say I'm disturbed by the similarities they possess, and it hurts even more when memories of a long forgotten life are involuntarily brought to the surface.

And as I hover between the waking and unconscious realms, I remember.

Kakashi and Juugo. Laid-back, reticent folk. Tall men with measured words and sleepy faces. They were powerhouses defined by the very word itself, one of who held the fabled Sharingan and the other the damnable Cursed Seal. Both had lost friends in battle, one being the late Obito Uchiha and one who once was Kimimaro Kaguya. They knew the world for what it was, how cruel and unforgiving it can be. It's not much of a surprise when one finds this sort of people, but they live for the moment; they live regardless of the pasts that made them who they were and what they are.

Sakura and Karin. Such outspoken girls who admire a strong man but value themselves as prime examples of capability rather than a tool for others to pick up and use. This is what makes them real. This is what makes them them: Unique individuals with unique mindsets and unique ways of life. Both have perfect chakra control and are well-trained medic-nin. Both have red hair and green eyes. Both have fiery spirits and calm currents dwelling inside them and that's what makes them a warm light at the end of the cold tunnel.

And then there are Naruto and Suigetsu. What naive, loud fools. Such persistent braggarts. They are strong, strong, strong. They never relent in the face of danger. They never give up without a fight. If it came down to it, they'd go out with a bang and not a whimper. One wishes to become Hokage and make the world a better; the other wishes to collect the blades of the Sevent Swordsmen in the Mist and make the world a living hell. Dreams like those come at a very high price, but they do not seem to care in the least bit. They'll do what it takes to make the impossible possible, even at the cost of their lives and everything that's within their grasp.

I remember. I remember with perfect clarity. And it's with this forgotten philosophy that I find it very amusing, quite ironic and utterly pathetic. I was never alone, never alone to begin with. I had my family, those of Uchiha blood, and my team, those of fighting dreamers. All along I had the power to kill my brother and restore our clan the way it was meant to be, not as back-stabbing conspirators but fellow ninja who burn brightly with the Will of Fire and bring unto their names legendary tales of heroic acts and altruism.

That is how we were meant to be.

But those _fellow ninja_ defiled us. They robbed us of glory! Of power! We were the best, the best there ever was. We were the King of Kings, the Prince of Princes. We were a glorious people and those rat bastards who call themselves Shinobi took it all away in one fell swoop!

I am an Avenger, born and bred. I am an Uchiha, wise and powerful. I am a soldier of my own rights, my own free will. And for what they did to me, to us, to history . . . they shall not be Forgiven! They shall suffer in their fire and be no more!

I blink, and blood runs down my eyes.

I blink, and I see the Eight-Tailed Beast.

I blink, and see an old life. Of blue masks, pink hair, whiskers and high hopes for the future.

I blink, and see dead bodies.

I blink--

"AMATERASU!"

--and see only black fire.

The bull lets loose a high-pitched squeal, not one of triumph but of shock and pain. It tosses its head back and its tails lash at the ground. Rocks of various sizes erupt and shower the land like a meteor shower. The flames crackle and hisses as steam rolls off the gargantuan form in white waves.

From Karin's grasp I escape and struggle to stand. They look at me -- Karin, Suigetsu (who's slowly reforming) and Juugo (who looks much younger than when I first met him), but I pay them no heed. The black inferno is the only thing that's clear to me, the rest an impressionistic catastrophe. Everything's fading in and out of focus. Sounds reach me and touch only cotton ball static.

I'm warm. So damn warm. I think I'm on fire.

No, it's not me. It's Konoha. Wonderful, precious, goddamned fucking Konohagakure no Sato in the Land of Fire.

"Sasuke!" A voice, Karin's.

I fall to my knees, but I don't feel it. I cough up blood and they splatter my hands.

"Sasuke!" she repeats. Her hand claps my shoulders (and I don't sense her coming). "Sasuke, we need to bail! Right now!"

". . . No," I croak, shaking my head. "Need to . . . capture . . . beast."

"You're in no condition to fight!"

"I . . . I must . . . ."

"We'll get 'im next time. Now come on!" She pulls me up and into a fireman's carry. The mess that is Suigetsu is held tightly under the crook of her other arm.

She takes one last glance at the Hachibi no Oushi, who writhes and lurches into cliffs, raining more destruction. That obsidian embrace still snaps and pops, an angry serpent from the pits of the Mangekyou Sharingan.

_(It's what Konoha will look like in the near future. Flames and death and empty husks of tarnished glory._

_(They will burn, burn, burn . . . .)_

Turning to Juugo she nods.

And with that we take flight.


End file.
